


and if I said I love you, would it change anything?

by missingyou



Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Has Issues, Bruce Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Confessions, M/M, Past Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Protective Clark Kent, everyone is trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingyou/pseuds/missingyou
Summary: He's trying, in every sense of the word he's trying. There isn't one time of day where he doesn't hold himself back, where he doesn't pull the reels in and realize how selfish his desires truly are.Because Clark deserved much better than him, and there wasn't anything doubting that in Bruce's mind.But, why is Clark looking at him like that from across the room?or they're on a league mission, Bruce meets an old friend, and Clark gets the wrong idea.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 152





	and if I said I love you, would it change anything?

**Author's Note:**

> first story! tell me what ya think??

Bruce typed steady, seated on the chair in front of the large computer screen he didn't do anything else except type. It was research, a potential recruit, and it needed his complete attention. A wave of exhaustion rolled over him as his neck began to cramp from it's stagnant position, but he persisted, simply taking off his cowl to remedy it. In usual cases, he would've taken a shower, perhaps maybe even eaten a meal, before starting something like this. But, this information couldn't be compromised, not even for a spare fifteen minutes.

"Bruce?"

He anticipated interruptions, however concluded that there would be more at the cave than the watchtower. Even with that, the clench of his jaw signaled any distraction was annoying enough. His typing was relentless though; he refused to lose sight of the data displayed by the screen. 

He had been working on this file for days already, could even be a week if he were to retrace properly, and he was nearly done, he needed two or three more updates before he could conclude if he wanted to pursue this or not. There were countless vigilantes, especially after the assembly of the League, and so he needed to make sure this one was worth checking out. 

Even with that knowledge, even with the pressure of his will, he still responded. Internally, the usually controlled man cursed himself out; reminding himself of his mission. The one thing that's been dominating his head space for weeks ever since he heard the murmur of the name going through the dark streets of Star City.

"What is it you need, Superman?"

"Sorry, B, it was kind of important," and Bruce didn't need to turn around to see the sheepish smile, the slight rub of his neck. Clark always did that when he was nervous, and he was nearly always nervous around the other. 

"Important?"

"I had an incident." Closing his eyes, the Dark Knight could feel the new tension running through his veins, and if not for his discipline he would've whipped around. "I know I should probably go to someone else because you're busy-"

"An incident."

"He goes by Green Arrow. I heard a few stories of him from Wally but I wanted to make sure so I flew over-"

"You flew over." His lips pressed in a thin line, completely unimpressed as he finally stopped his typing and simply had his back toward his teammate. He would never get over it, the feeling of someone going against orders, of being unprepared- of Clark somehow always intercepting whatever he's working on. "You flew over to an unknown city, with no back-up, to check on an undisclosed identity who, not only is rumored to kill his enemies, but is also known to have contacts in every region of the country _and_ Russia?"

"Way to make it sound-"

"That's what you did, is it not?"

"Bruce-" Clark sighed as any indignation left his tone, "Okay, that's what happened. He didn't see me though, I stood at the entrance of the city and used my vision; I'm not a complete failure in that department."

Bruce heard shuffling from the back, and soon the alien was sitting beside him staring at the screen as well. He tensed a little more as he felt the natural radiance of warmth enter his vicinity. That was something about Clark, he was always warm; his eyes, his smile, his hugs, everything.

 _A simple observation of alien anatomy_. There were still a dozen things he didn't know about Kryptonians, yet the warmth was something he never felt around Supergirl, at least never to that extent. He allows his neck to finally relax from its rigid posture, and looks down at the keyboard as he lets a small sigh out, disregarding that Clark was registering every movement of his. It was another thing that was strangely comforting yet unnerving, knowing he couldn't get away with anything because the other was somehow always there. He wondered if the rest of the league felt that too.

"Why don't we get some coffee in the cafeteria?"

And so they stood, collectively and somehow in sync (something else he deciphers as alien habit, learning to mirror actions of those they spent the most time with. He questions again if this happened with Lois, but quickly dismissed it as it left a bad taste in his mouth.) Clark talked as much as always, chattering about his day, his lunch with Lois, his patrol, and didn't crumble as Bruce briefly responded with a nod or a hum; nothing more. It was easy to fall into routine, especially because they never failed to catch up over a cup of coffee, and so when he was given the opportunity to speak, he did. "Damian's starting sixth grade soon."

"That's good, even though he'll be raised another grade again once they see his potential. What about Dick?" He always saved Jason for last, and Bruce understood the sensitivity near the topic, or the normal sense of uncertainty, but after holding his body, feeling the blood between his fingers, blinking again and again as he attempted to rationalize his next movement- well, normal sensitivity left the minute he put the cowl on again and declared his life statement. So, he never felt anything when Jason was brought up, yet only truly felt unbothered when it was Clark who mentioned him (he supposes again, the warmth and familiarity has allowed him to grow some distant sense of comfortability.)

"Good, still with Barbara."

"They've been strong for a while now." Stalling. That was okay, Bruce acknowledged why.

"He's okay, came in contact two weeks ago to make sure I knew that." He couldn't comprehend the feeling, but even his lack of social engagement told him he needed to reassure the other. The irony of that, but Clark didn't always care too much, but more so cared so publicly; it was hard not to read up on his cues.

"A step." he smiled, a smile of both relief and genuine joy. Maybe he got too invested, Bruce analyzed, he didn't always ask about everyone's business, but if they told him he'd always respond as though he cared with one hundred percent of him. A quality of a good man, something the Bat knew he'd never be. He was too selfish, too draining to ever be of good use to someone else. He knew his faults, knew that he never communicated, never took the time to care for anyone or anything. He supposes it's why Lois never leaves his mind; he's human, and it's only an instinct to be jealous of what he could never be. She was stable, strong, secure.

He never asked about them, and he supposes it was as a result of his pettiness. Neither did he ever break down why he seemed to compare himself to her, because he knew once that door was opened, everything would go to hell.

"So, Oliver Queen, huh?"

"Superman-" Bruce sighed as they entered the cafeteria, his steady steps taking him straight to the coffee machine. "Those files aren't official yet."

"Maybe not to your standards." The other laughed, the smile somehow immediately lifting the empty room as Bruce finally looked at him. It was relieving, suddenly the tension that had built in his shoulders was released as he saw the glint in the other's crystal blue eyes, partnering along with a smile that could never be matched. Alien. Alien in the way that humans could never achieve what Clark had, could never smile as bright as him, could never be as genuine or strong.

Mentally and physically, he proved to be superior. Powered by the sun itself, Bruce wasn't surprised that Clark managed to shine even at the darkest times of night.

He wondered if everyone else thought the same.

"Your usual?"

"I'll make it-" he moved to grab one of the cups in the cabinet, only to be beaten by the joyful reporter. 

"My treat." he stated, a wide smile on his lips as he began to prepare the drinks. The Bat couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, one he knew could be seen by the other.

"You had me walk over here just to offer that now." It was a simple observation, he hadn't intended for it to go anywhere. 

"Can't blame me for wanting to spend more time with you."

"Your judgement is subpar at best, Kal." He was neutral when he said that, perhaps a certain self-deprecating sarcasm laced in his tone; it was his trademark at this point. 

The only person aware of his conscious effort to steady his heartbeat was him; not even with his powers could Superman ever detect the way his remark made Bruce react internally, and silently the Dark Knight prayed it would stay that way. This was becoming a problem, he recognized, their relationship is turning into something.. _else_ and the Bat wasn't sure if he wanted to see that happen.

* * *

* * *

"Master Bruce-" Alfred insisted, in all ways pressuring for the other to take a rest, yet Bruce simply kept tying his tie standing in front of the antique mirror. They were still in the mansion, although he was supposed to leave fifteen minutes prior. Perhaps a part of him agreed with Alfred, he truly was tired, but this needed to be done; for the sake of the league, and his own little indulgences would have to be reserved for a different time.

"You claim to be rational, yet you refuse to give your body time to recharge. You will not be at this gala tonight, Master Bruce, it is simply illogical." He was using words to capture the billionaire's attention, but once a man like him was stuck in his ways, there was no deterring him. 

"I will, Alfred, and I'm afraid there's not enough time in the day for me to sleep." he pursed his lips, "Maybe the car ride."

A proposal of comprise, an extending of an olive branch; that's what that was. Bruce attempting to please his only father figure while sticking to his decision. "Now, does this tie go well with my suit?"

Alfred sighed, exasperated. "I suppose so, sir."

"Good." Bruce turned, facing his butler as he plastered his infamous smile, "Don't worry, old man, this'll be an easy one."

 _It should've been an easy one,_ Bruce clenched his jaw as he pulled up the massive home, only to immediately (and purposefully, Clark always did this) sight a familiar pair of reporters.

"You called him." He stated bluntly to the ear piece, and heard Alfred laugh slightly.

"You're not the only one allowed to have contingencies, sir."

"I will never forgive you." And he exited the Ferrari, throwing his keys at the young valet as his smile shined brilliantly with the cameras flashing in his face. Trying to decipher why he was so irritated with Clark's presence was hard enough, and it had nothing to do with Lois' hand gripping the Kryptonian's forearm gently as she whispered something to him. He completely disregarded the light blush the alien had as an effect. Focus, he reminded himself-

"Bruce, an absolute surprise!" Oliver stood at his front door, leaning against the frame as he raised his glass with a sharp smirk.

"Old friends can't rejoice, Ollie?"

"Now, I never said that did I?" Oliver Queen was handsome; slight scruff, perfectly styled hair, and impeccably tailored suit that almost competed with Bruce's own. This'll be more enjoyable than initially anticipated, he realized, especially because Bruce was one hundred percent sure they both _knew_. "It's simply so easy, isn't it? Doing this?"

_Playboy smiles, girls on each arm, playing dumb._

"The parties get easier to host the more handsome you are." And he flashed a Brucie smile, winking playfully as he heard the journalists begin to murmur. They'd be crazy with their head lines, going from a simple reconcile of the party to an entire conspiracy about how Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen are forming a secret society.

"Mr. Wayne?" the familiar Kansas accent interrupted their banter, and Bruce smiled even wider as he threw an arm and placed it in the center of his back, laughing as Clark visibly looked surprised. 

"Chad is it? From the Planet? At this rate, you outta arrive with me to parties because I see you everywhere!" He let his eyes grow serious for a second before smiling once again, "Interview me after I've had a few drinks, I did just get here."

"Now, Ollie, let's see how great you are at hosting."

* * *

* * *

Bruce was tired. Smile big on his face, eyes dragging cross every item in the room as though due to his inebriated state, his words were slurred and he laughed too loud, but deep down he was just tired. There wasn't much he could do, though, especially because he started the party already hyper even without drinking. He would blame Clark any other day, but at this point he was simply too dazed to blame anyone but himself. No matter what though, even when he knew no one was looking, he never let down his facade; especially if Oliver knew, or thought he knew, there may still be room to make him doubt.

Except for the mysterious connection to the Daily Planet reporter, and that caused Bruce to clench his jaw harshly and abruptly. He hadn't thought in the moment, and when he mentioned they knew each other it was an immediate give away. He could easily pass it off as another fan, that was always an option; the arrogance the claim carried was enough to convince anyone that Bruce Wayne truly was an air headed, full of himself rich boy. Still, he stood in the far edge of the room, staring out the floor to ceiling glass doors, and couldn't help but to brood.

After a few moments, he felt a gaze on him that indicated he'd been quiet for too long, and so he counted to five before taking an exaggerating chug and screaming,

"Take this to the pool!"

In all honesty, he didn't expect anyone to follow. This was a different scenery, perhaps not the same kind of money but rich nonetheless, meaning the people were snobby, arrogant. In all ways they always viewed themselves as superior, too high and mighty for certain ways of life. So, he decided to give them a story hate on.

Nothing was in any regard toward the reporter staring at him from across the room, Lois still by his side, in need of a story. Quickly, giggling as he did so, he began to loosen his tie, doing it slowly as too prove his intoxication as well as to give Oliver enough time to run to him and stop him. 

To which he did, three seconds max. Meaning he had to scurry through a crowd of thirty to fifty (just in his vicinity) specifically there to see him, all the way across the thousand square foot room, in less than three seconds. There was practice, an ease to it; especially because he hadn't bumped into anyone or gotten into any accidents along the way (somewhat of an amateur move in Bruce's opinion, another embarrassing diversion would've captured attention faster than him addressing him directly.) 

And just as Oliver moved to stop his hand, music began to play; perfectly timed as to drag him into a dance. (Bruce pondered, another headline idea he hadn't taken into account: _Gotham's Bruce Wayne and Star City's Oliver Queen: A Secret Affair?_

A troupe like this was easier to play, especially because he didn't have to jump in a pool completely and utterly intoxicated while dressed down in a custom made suit. It aligned seamlessly, almost like Oliver planned it. It was why he simply allowed the other to pull him onto the floor, he didn't even fight to be lead.

"I really would've thought you'd argue with me on this," Oliver smiled gleefully, his brown eyes focused utterly on Bruce. At this point, the Gotham billionaire had accepted his fluid sexuality. It helped too that it brought him more options as a celebrity.

"Now why would I fight when a handsome man like yourself is sweeping me off my feet?"

"I see, that's the Wayne charm their always talking about."

"Them?" he smiled loosely, raising an eyebrow as he talked. A habit he had grown used to, to make their conversation seem more seductive than it actually was, although this time around he'd found himself somewhat curious.

"Now, I don't think that's my place to say."

"Tell me if Moira has a crush I won't mind."

It caused Bruce to let a small, genuine smirk on his lips as he watched Oliver's face change from sultry to horror. The satisfaction bubbling in his gut allowed Bruce to enjoy a portion of his night since he'd entered the car to Star City.

"My father is rolling in his grave at the thought."

Bruce hummed, didn't say much as he realized that the Oliver he went to school with, before he'd realized how mentally fucked up he was, was still the same Oliver he saw here, even if it was for a split second. The warmth, the familiarity that led to him feeling _comfortable_ forced his mind to remember who truly made him feel like that.

He'd been dancing around Clark for a long time now. That's something his mind was willing to admit, because he'd known the distraction the man would be from the moment he stepped foot in Gotham, and perhaps his distrust blossomed from there. The thing about Clark, was that everything with him was simply too easy; his resolve could melt the minute he looked at him if he'd let it, and that was something Bruce could never afford. Not only for the sake of his mission, but for the sake of Clark. 

Once Clark saw what he truly had to offer, he wouldn't want anything to do with him. That was a fact he'd lived with for a long time, because once his walls fell, once the vengeance, the anger, the unresolved pain, once that at all fell, he was simply the boy who felt his parents bodies in that dark alley those years ago; he was the man who watched his son die in his arms, the man that could never admit that he was never a good father. He didn't know what he was doing, and back then forgot to accept Jason as Jason and instead wanted him more like Dick. To think, he reminded himself bitterly, that even then a part of Dick still resents him for the way he was raised.

In short terms, Lois was the woman for Superman, Clark Kent, Kal-El. She was it, and it didn't even affect him anymore as he accepted it, because the terrifying part about it all was that he was okay with anything as long as the man, with his non-prescription glasses and cheap suit, seated at the end of the bar, ended up happy in the end.

"Bruce," Oliver whispered in his ear, "You're staring."

"Sorry, guess they make them different in Metropolis," he looked back toward his childhood friend, "Ms. Lane looks good doesn't she?"

He had his expression exactly as it was prior, and so he could only try to rationalize why Oliver all of a sudden went serious in his. Suddenly, as in he didn't even realize, the man he'd been tracking down for days leaned centimeters away from him, and all he could do was stare as he suspected this going two ways.

"It really should be easy, shouldn't it?"

 _Play the role, Bruce._ He looked at the others eyes, before looking at his lips and then back to his eyes again. "Yeah, it really should be."

"Then, let me make this easy for you." And he simply watched as Oliver leaned closer, and in a second and half it was Clark.

_"Don't."_

* * *

* * *

He was being dragged. Wrist held in a tight, inhuman grip as he was being dragged. Speed slight faster than an average person, the reporter's shoulders tensed visibly so, and Bruce was simply wondering where he was going because last time he checked he was supposed to be starting rumors for said tense man's story. Clark had led them to the gazebo off the side of the house, and suddenly time stopped as Bruce watched him turn around and face him. There were so many possible outcomes for this, he attempted to rationalize them as fast as he could but the Kryptonian spoke immediately.

"You told me you were recruiting him."

"I am."

"Then what was all that? Couldn't you have warned me?"

 _Oh, he had made the young man uncomfortable by his display of affection._ Suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, Bruce allowed his mask to fall as the previous playful smile dropped to a thin line. "I don't understand. You've seen Diana do the same, as well as me."

"The last time you did something like that Bruce was when you were testing me." There was a look in his eyes, something the detective couldn't identify properly as he attempted to read the room without any bias or emotion. The statement reverberated in his head as a part of him reminisced on how Clark was- the same flustered, yet just as charming reporter he is to this day.

"Exactly," he spoke clearly, "Why is this a surprise?"

It was silent for awhile, and he watched how the indestructible man slowly crumbled as his question settled in the air. There were so many things left unsaid, things that Bruce hadn't any clue how to say at all. Was he analyzing this correct? The only explanation he can come up with is-

"Could it be because you weren't the one I was dancing with, Clark?"

He was met with more silence, and counted to a minute before he spoke once more. "Lois must be wondering where you are-"

"No." And the slightly taller man finally looked up from the ground, giving Bruce the most stern look he'd ever received. All of a sudden, the usual light and crystal eyes were deep and dark, almost reflecting his mood. "I can't do this anymore, Bruce."

The exhausted man, both mentally an physically, could feel his foundation begin to crack as the final blow came. Now, of all places, with him feeling the way he did, it was like the universe was willing to dig his he'd in the mud. "Do we have to do this now-"

"Yes," and though there was slight offense in his eyes, Clark stood his ground as he proceeded. His hands began to cross over his chest, and Bruce could tell that he was growing nervous. But, for what? Wasn't Bruce the one getting let down here?

"I'm in love with you, Bruce."

And, wow, that almost made him laugh. He refrained though, wanting to see what else was going to happen because this wasn't real.

"I know-" Clark allowed himself to laugh as he pinched the skin between his eyebrows, "I already know what you're thinking: 'Kal, you should know better.' 'Kal, do you really want me to entertain that idea?' 'Kal, please don't tell me you're serious,'" And yeah, all of those were very accurate, even the small impression he did.

"I don't sound like that."

"Please, Bruce, don't even act like that wasn't impressive."

He simply hummed in response.

"I should probably say more," He had a sheepish smile, did the same rub of his neck he always did, except this time there was a soft color on his cheeks. "But, seeing you Queen, I didn't have time to think before I found myself here."

So, he really was in love with him, huh?

"Are you sure, Clark?" He was holding back about as much as he possibly could, taking into account all of his thoughts and the lingering exhaustion. "What about Lois?"

He would never want to hurt her, no matter what. However, it seemed he said something of somewhat amusement, because the other, who was sweating bullets seconds ago, simply smiled a smile that Bruce once again couldn't decipher. Why couldn't he?

"Bruce.." Clark looked as though he had seen an angel, his eyes glazed over, a smile on his face looking almost painful because of the emotion it held. In obviousness, he looked beautiful, and silently the other simply wondered why he deserved to see this. "Bruce, I didn't think I would ever fallen in love with anyone. Not Lana, not even Lois; not anyone."

This is taking a turn, but the slight raise in his heartbeat showed he knew where this was leading.

"But the minute you scowled at me, the minute you showed me what was actually under everything, I was proven wrong. Not because of your money, or your skill, or your appearance; simply because Bruce, although you can be stubborn and emotionally constipated at times," the billionaire huffed. "- you are the most giving, thoughtful, smart, caring, loving person I have ever met. You claim I care so much Bruce, but you live life for the sake of others."

"You can deny it all you want," there it was again, the smile, the expression that the Gotham Bat could already tell would be imprinted on his eyelids. "But, I am in love with you. With everything I am, and it took five years to realize that."

_"That was beautiful, Master Wayne."_

Bruce blinked out of his trance as his hand went to his earpiece, and the reporter threw his head back as he cackled.

"I-" He didn't know why, but his brain was working thousands of miles an hour as he tried to formulate a response; how does he respond? He was utterly clueless.

_"Oh for fucks sake he loves you too, Kent."_

"Jason, language."

_"What the fuck? You're busy responding to me-" The line cut off as Alfred obviously took charge._

"So?"

"This won't be easy-"

"I know."

"I won't tell you anything, I'll live off of scraps, you'll barely see me-"

"You had a minute to figure out what you wanted to say and you chose to argue with me?"

Bruce blushed. He truly, never experienced a connection like this before, blushed out of embarrassment. He could tell Clark saw it for what it was; a confirmation without words, and just like that Clark reached forward and pulled him into an embrace. 

"This is how it should be." _You're mine._

"Okay." _I've always been._

**Author's Note:**

> CHEESY ENDING!! tell me what you think I really really wanna know. please also leave opinions, I've never written bruce before so im trying to get his mindset right. thank you luvs!


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